Anticipate the Expected, Do the Unexpected
by BreetanyaViolet
Summary: Once upon a time…Once upon a day…Once looking at a boy…Once upon this boy's shoulders…The world sat." Harry ponders his life before he marries Ginny and comes to some startling revelations and decides to take charge of his own life. Canon til Epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Anticipate the Expected,**

**Do the Unexpected**

_AN: Well, I don't own HP. And this fic takes place after the final book, voiding the epilogue. JKR put that in just to make us fanfic authors work harder at our summaries._

_That's all I can tell you for certain._

_Now to the story:_

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_Once upon a time…_

_Once upon a day…_

_Once looking at a boy…_

_Once upon this boy's shoulders…_

_The world sat._

_._

Once upon a time, there was a boy who held the world on his pathetically scrawny shoulders. He was starved for food and positive attention.

And he wasn't allowed to resent having the world on his shoulders, because his parents put it there by dying when he lived.

He wasn't considered all that clever by his teachers because self-preservation had taught him long before he understood the concept of college and advantages in the 'Real World,' that if he was better, at anything, than his cousin, he would be punished.

And he wasn't allowed to resent forfeiting his advantage because his aunt and uncle took him in when they wanted to drown him instead.

He was thrust into the limelight and a new world all at once, and people expected him to be perfect so that they could trust that good forever defeats evil, and there is something to strive for, and it is tangible.

And he wasn't allowed to resent the limelight, or the people, because otherwise what was the purpose of living, and struggling, for the rest of the world?

He was to grow up and marry a red-headed fiery woman, like his mother, to insure that the people continued to believe in fairy-tail endings and ideal couples, and soul mates, and the continued cycle of life.

And he wasn't allowed to resent having this woman as a wife, because he was to be his father all over again.

He had to risk his life over and over again to save those who would scorn him the next day. He had to smile for the cameras when they caught up with him, and hold his tongue in front of reporters out for any story to make a buck.

And he wasn't allowed to resent his puppet-actions because otherwise evil might prevail in his enemy or himself.

He defeated the most prominent Dark Lord in recent history and had to take up the mantle of Auror for the rest of his life and follow the play that an old and powerful and manipulative and dead wizard had set up after his parents died.

And he wasn't allowed to resent the decisions of this old and senile wizard because he was the greatest leader of the light since Merlin himself.

Harry sat in the Ron's childhood room (now a guest room), waiting for his cue to walk down the aisle (which should be within the quarter hour) to accept Ginerva Molly Weasley as his wife. He didn't want to. He had spent the last half an hour thinking over his life and realized that he hadn't made a decision for himself since he decided that he didn't want mashed peas and threw them in Padfoot's face at age 14 months.

He didn't want Ginny. She was beautiful, kind, strong, and courageous. But he didn't want her. He didn't love her. At least, not like how he thought a man should love his wife. He only thought that was what was supposed to happen. He had liked Cho. He had even liked Luna, in her own odd, colorful way. But he didn't even like Ginny like he liked those two. Hell, he had liked Fleur more than he liked Ginny. His emotional response to Ginny was nearly identical to his emotional reaction to Ron.

He gagged.

He was marrying his sister because she had a vague resemblance to his mother.

He vomited into a potted plant.

He was sick.

This wasn't just some Oedipus action. This was worse. He was marrying his sister because she looked like his mother. It was like the Oedipus disease thing squared… no, cubed, because he realized before he had kids with Ginny what was going on.

Hermione came bustling into the room and wrinkled her nose. She noticed the pile of sick in the potted plant and waved her wand to vanish it. "Honestly Harry. You're hung over on your wedding day? Ron should have stopped you from drinking so much at your Bachelor's party last night."

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked hoarsely. He had to tell Ron to tell Mrs. Weasley to call off the wedding. He had been confined to Ron's room so he couldn't accidently see Ginny before the wedding, and Ginny wanted to be a part of making sure the day was perfect.

"He's off trying to convince Mrs. Weasley that the flowers are perfect and she doesn't need to bother the caterers any longer, and trying to convince Ginny that her dress is beautiful, and her hair is perfect, and he's trying to keep George from detonating the fireworks he hid on the chairs, you know, stuff his older brothers should help with," Hermione snorted. "I just hope they aren't like this when Ron gets married."

Harry looked up at her, "Could you tell Mrs. Weasley to call off the wedding then?"

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened. "Call off the wedding? Oh, Harry. You just have cold feet. It's completely normal."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "No. I'm not in love with Ginny. At all." He gagged again. "I'm sick, Hermione. I'm marrying my sister because she looks like my mum."

"Ginny isn't you sister," Hermione pointed out. "Although I suppose she has a superficial likeness to your mother. But anyway, I'm positive it's just cold-feet, Harry. Remember Remus's case? He wouldn't marry Tonks for a year!"

Harry shook his head again. "He didn't want to marry Tonks because of his lycanthropy! Not because he didn't love her. I don't love Ginny like he did Tonks. I think I'm more attracted to Bill than Ginny, to be honest!"

"You're gay?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted. "You and Ginny aren't going to turn into _Will and Grace_ are you?"

"No! I'm not gay!" Harry nearly shouted. "I like boobs! A lot!"

"But you just said you're more attracted to Bill…"

"Forget that comparison! Not gay! I like boobs!" Harry groaned. Why did he have to have his revelation now?

Hermione sat down in a chair across from Harry. "Then what's going on? I'm completely baffled, and I'm pretty certain that I didn't get hit by a Confundus curse."

"When was the last time I did something that wasn't expected of me that I had control over?" Harry demanded.

"What does this have to do with you not loving Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"Just answer my question," Harry scowled and looked at his watch. "We don't have much time."

"I guess it would have to be…" Hermione paused. "I'm sorry to say this, Harry, but you're very predictable. The last thing I can think of is going to a Slug Club party with Luna as your date. You were against Slughorn fiercely until that point."

"I did it basically on Dumbledore's orders to find out what he knew about Tom Riddle when he was a kid," Harry muttered. He shook his head, "Anyway, what this points out is that I've always done what's expected of me. I was expected to defeat Voldemort, and I did, thank Merlin. But I was also always expected to fight evil for the rest of my life and follow in my father's footsteps. I was expected to marry Ginny so I asked her out and dated her. Now in a few minutes she thinks she's going to walk down the aisle and become Mrs. Potter. But I'm not in love with her. I feel love for her, but it's the same way I feel about Ron, Mione! I'm marrying my sister!"

Hermione groaned. "Why now? And why do I have to tell Mrs. Weasley?"

"I just realized it myself," Harry sighed. "And you can at least lure Mrs. Weasley to some place quiet to break the news to her so it won't be too bad. But I can't go through with this wedding. It wouldn't be fair to Ginny or me."

"Damn it, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "How do you get into these messes?"

"I don't know, this is the first time I'm doing something that's not expected of me," Harry shrugged.

"Hell of a way to begin," Hermione stood up. "I'll go tell Mrs. Weasley, you start putting up silencing charms for when she and Ginny come up to yell at you. I'll tell George to set off the fireworks and put the whole thing off as a publicity stunt for Wheezes."

Harry hugged her. "Thanks, Mione. You're great."

"If Mrs. Weasley kills the messenger, I want Hellebore on my grave," Hermione replied and left the room.

A few minutes later, Harry heard two people coming up the stairs and fireworks going off outside. He sighed and hid his face. This was not going to be pretty.

_AN:_

_To be continued?_

_I think I might continue this one shot. It's shaping up to have much more of a plotline than I expected._

_Please note that if it is to be continued I have no idea of when it may be updated, or at the moment, if there will be pairings, if someone will die, if it will be rated M, or what not. I move and start a new job on Monday so give me time._

_Review?_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I don't own HP.  
Warning: Curses in this chapter, some of them I don't approve of, but Ginny's got a potty mouth.  
Further explanations at the bottom. Enjoy.

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_Once upon a time, not too long ago, lived a boy who canceled his wedding right before it began. The woman was not happy about his actions. But that was okay, because he chose to cancel it. And nothing she did could make him regret his choice._

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"Out! Out now, Potter!" Ginny screeched at Harry once she and Mrs. Weasley reached the room. "You're marrying me, and not running away for some stupid arse noble reason!"

"It's not noble. It's actually quite selfish," Harry said quietly and waved his wand to close the door. He motioned for the two Weasley women to sit on the bed.

Mrs. Weasley sat down, looking sad, while Ginny paced in front of Harry like a lioness in a too-small cage at the circus. "Now, Harry? You get cold feet now? We are supposed to be beginning the ceremony now!"

"I'm not in love with you," Harry watched Ginny pace in her swirling white dress. Her veil was fluttering behind her like a banner of surrender.

"You're not in love with me?" she stopped and stared at him. "Is there someone else? There is, isn't there? Who is she? Or maybe it's a he? Merlin knows I wondered why you refused to sleep with me before the wedding, especially when I offered enough times. It's a he, isn't it? You're gay and using me as a cover-up, you God-damned poofter bastard! You're probably having an affair with that Zabinni fag!"

"Why the hell does everyone think I'm gay when I say I don't want to marry you?" Harry moaned as Mrs. Weasley stood up and faced her daughter.

"What do you mean you offered to sleep with Harry before your marriage, young lady?" she demanded, seeming to grow with each word.

"Come on, Mum," Ginny snorted. "We're way past the age of free love. Now a days it's perfectly normal to sample the wares before you buy them. But that isn't the point. It's my fiancé refusing to marry me!"

"We'll discuss this later," Mrs. Weasley threatened.

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry. "Well, if you're not gay, who is she?"

"There is no one. I'm not in love with you," Harry sighed and tugged at his hair with both fists. "And thank Merlin that I didn't sleep with you!" He turned slightly green and shuddered.

"Am I that ugly, Potter?" she scowled. "Am I that repulsive? Well then, why the hell didn't you break up with me before today? I'm so ugly you can't marry me?"

"It's not that, I think you're beautiful. But," Harry hesitated, shrugged, and continued. "I love you like a sister."

"Harold James Potter! You do not use the God-damned sister excuse on the day you're supposed to marry!" Ginny raged.

Harry decided not to correct her furious mistake. His school records showed that his first name actually was Harry. But pointing that out would probably prolong his torment. His sense of self-preservation was renewed after he had died.

"It's not a line, Ginny," Harry sighed and looked between her and Mrs. Weasley. "While I was up here waiting I was thinking about how I got here. I'm sorry, but I'm with you because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. I asked you to marry me because it was expected, but not because I wanted it. I can't marry you without loving you. It's not fair to you, or me."

"And the reason you couldn't figure this dam…" Ginny was interrupted by a small blue whirlwind rushing into the room and attaching itself onto Harry's leg.

"Why aren't you marrying Aunt Ginny?" a three-year old Teddy Lupin (with blue hair to match his dress robes) asked Harry. "I didn't lose the rings, but what do I do if you guys don't get married?"

"I can tell you where to put the rings, Teddy," Ginny cooed.

"Ginerva," Mrs. Weasley warned in a low growl.

"Just give the rings to Ron… no better give them to Hermione and I will put them away later, okay Teddy?" Harry ruffled the boy's hair.

"But… if you're not marrying Aunt Ginny, why do I have to wear this thing?" Teddy pulled at his collar.

"Ask Hermione when you give her the rings," Harry suggested and ran his hand through his hair. "You'd better go find her."

"'Kay!" Teddy chirped and ran out of the room again.

Harry closed the door again and turned to Ginny, "I don't know why it had to be today that I figured it out, but at least it wasn't tonight, after we were married."

"So instead you're embarrassing both of us in front of the whole world. You know this won't stay quiet, Potter! Couldn't you have told me after the wedding? We could have come up with something!" Ginny seethed.

"Ginerva Weasley! I can't believe you just said that!" Mrs. Weasley began to rage.

"No, she's right. I am embarrassing the both of us," Harry interrupted Mrs. Weasley before she could get a good rant started.

"Damn right you are!" Ginny screamed and she wrestled her engagement ring off and threw it in Harry's general direction. "Go fuck yourself. I hope you never live this down, Potter." She left the room, her veil nearly getting caught in the door as she slammed it shut.

Harry sighed and accioed the ring. He turned to Mrs. Weasley, "Well, I guess it's your turn to read me the riot act."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, stood up, and smoothed out her robes. "Harry Potter! I can't believe you waited until ten minutes before the wedding to call it off! What am I to do with all the food I have prepared? What about all the gifts that need returned? You have given me a great deal more work than was necessary if you had the brains to think about this sooner! I have half a mind to have you degnomb the garden for a year, young man! As it is I am seriously considering that you should go up into the attic and convince the ghoul to release the Quaffles he has hostage up there! Perhaps next time you will be more considerate and think about your future before rushing into things like you have done since you met Ron! Merlin would think you would have learned to think over the past couple of years, but obviously not!"

Harry stared at Mrs. Weasley, "What about me hurting your daughter? What about me leading her on, and me being a prick who was only looking for a way to get into her pants?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled sadly and motioned for Harry to sit down. "You didn't lead her on, you simply did not think. As for you being a prick who was trying to bed my daughter, her rant clearly showed that you were not interested in doing that, so that is a ridiculous question. Finally, you not only hurt my daughter, you also hurt my son," she hugged the still standing Harry. "You had the courage to keep from making a mistake when you recognized it. I am very proud of you. You didn't do what was easy and did what Ginerva suggested. I am upset that I cleaned the Burrow for nothing, and I have no idea what I'm going to do with all that food, but you did the right thing at an awkward time."

Harry continued to stare at the Weasley Matriarch. "Um…"

"Harry, son, you are welcome here any time, always," she hugged him again. "But if I may suggest you try to avoid Ginny for a while, it may save me on some repairs."

"Are you certain you're not angry with me?" Harry asked, running his hand through his hair bemusedly.

"Not for calling off the wedding, just when you did it," Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Now you should stay up here until the guests have left and I convince some of my unreasonable sons that you're still family and not to be harmed."

"Thanks," Harry smiled.

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AN:  
To be continued? Probably.

Explanations:

Harry and Ginny not sleeping together before marriage:  
I just couldn't do that to poor Harry. He's already had a hard enough life, he shouldn't carry perceived incest on his shoulders as well.

Updates:  
My computer is refusing to connect to the internet we finally got hooked up in our apartment. So I'm using my roommate's computer. I've got a full time job that involves looking at a computer screen all day long, so I'm only typing up stuff when I can stand to look at the screen for longer. I don't know when the next update will be. But the story isn't resolved yet, so expect more.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Sorry about the wait.  
Writing this was about just a bit easier than building a wooden space station.  
Next update should be sooner._

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Chapter 3

_Once upon a time, a boy sat in his flat, alone. He looked around his apartment and found several items to be missing. He was glad._

As Harry finished examining his bathroom, now devoid of Ginny's feminine objects and dental equipment, someone knocked on his door. Harry strolled to the door, peeked out of the peep hole to see Ron standing there. Due to the lack of fireplace and the anti-apparition wards on his place, his friends had to walk to his apartment from down the street.

He opened the door and motioned for Ron to come inside, "What's up, mate? And what took you so long?"

Ron shrugged and sat down on Harry's squeaky futon. He had enough money to buy a proper couch, but insisted that every twenty-something getting their first apartment needed to have a futon. Hermione and Ginny were not pleased with his decision. "Mum convinced me to wait a few days before talking to you, pointing out what results my temper has 'produced in the past.' She did have a point, but she didn't need to have Charlie and George sit on me while she was yelling."

Harry groaned and held back a chuckle. "I wouldn't have blamed you for blowing up at me. I was surprised your mum took it as well as she did. I would not have been lenient with the guy that hurt my daughter like I hurt Ginny."

"So you're trying to convince me not to beat you up, right?" Ron snorted and picked up the Daily Prophet on the coffee table. "By the way, George told me to warn you that Ginny's been spending an inordinate time in the invention lab he has set up at the shop."

Harry dropped his head into his hands. "That's all I need, to walk into Auror training with a large tree trunk nose and donkey ears, and bat bogeys flapping around my head."

"You'd make an impression," Ron snickered. "I don't think it would be a very good one, but it certainly would be one." He sobered up and tapped the Daily Prophet, "You'd deserve it though, with this shite going through the paper."

Harry glanced at the front page, _Potter Wedding a Joke, WWW Publicity Stunt Shocks Guests at Potter's 'Private' Wedding._ "I keep meaning to burn that or something, but I keep forgetting."

"You're lucky that the press bought that bullshit Hermione thought up, it's not very convincing," Ron snorted. "Although, when you think about it, it's not surprising that they bought it. They always thought you were an attention grabbing little brat. As it is, the Quibbler is reporting that the wedding was attacked by a southern variety of Harnupdaroops which caused you to dump Ginny at the altar. Luna wrote it."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "You know what, that doesn't surprise me anymore. The Quibbler has to be the most accurate rag in the entire wizarding world."

"Odd, isn't it?" Ron laughed. "The tabloid that had Sirius as some rock star is the best source of facts out of the major wizarding publications."

"Are you sure that you aren't just partial to that newspaper because last month it wrote about you being the mastermind behind the ministry, and that Shacklebolt is just a puppet that you're using to make the ministry clean up it's bureaucratic shit?" Harry snickered.

"They obviously see my genius for what it could be," Ron gloated.

"Bureaucratic shit?"

Ron threw a ratty old pillow at Harry. Harry had nicked it from the Gryffindor common room at the end of his seventh academic year at Hogwarts. He had wanted to take something of his first home with him to the flat he had arranged to live in while he was being tutored in Potions and Ancient Runes for Auror training. Ancient Runes wasn't necessary for the Auror program, it was considered a useful skill when dealing with deranged dark lord wannabes and their convoluted rituals for power. One did not want to rush into the middle of a ritual circle without knowing what the ritual called for or how to defuse it. He had just finished his NEWT crash course in Runes the spring before and was put down for the Auror training program that fall.

"Although, seriously mate," Ron sobered. "What are you going to do now? Can you imagine how bad the press is going to get when they realize that you and Ginny aren't actually dating anymore?"

Harry groaned and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll duck and keep low. Like I always do."

"No offence mate, but you keeping low doesn't work very well," Ron snorted. "Every time you try to stay low, you end up making more headlines. Maybe you should just go to the press and explain why you broke up with her. You know, cut your losses before they turn you into a scarlet man or whatever."

"A scarlet man?" Harry snorted. "I don't think there's such a thing."

"If there is a scarlet woman, why can't there be a scarlet man?" Ron replied. "Besides, you're avoiding my point…"

"You had a point?"

"Yes, you git. What do you think about going to the press and just explain it to them straight? It's bound to get less press than when you were hiding from reporters during seventh year," Ron pointed out. "It's like sacrificing a bishop to protect your rook. Both are valuable pieces, but in the end, a rook is easier to work with."

Harry paused. Ron was actually giving him good advice. That hardly ever happened. Ron had a valid point. The best way to keep the reporters from trying to hide in his laundry basket was to air his laundry out. But did he really want to deal with the interview process, have the reporters decide that it wasn't juicy enough, and then watch as embellishment after embellishment graced the front page?

"Well?" Ron pestered.

"I don't know mate. It seems like reporters think my life isn't exciting enough whenever I give them the truth," Harry said slowly. "Don't you think they'll make things up no matter what I do?"

"Probably," Ron admitted. "But I also think that they'll get bored faster."

Harry ran his hand through his hair again. "Fine. Next time you see Luna, tell her I've got an exclusive for her."

"Why do I have to tell her? And why would I see her?" Ron demanded. "I'm not your secretary you know."

"Because Luna has been stalking you every time you go to the Three Broomsticks, trying to get an exclusive from you about what it's like to control a nation, and I don't feel like going to Broomsticks with you tonight." Harry snorted. "I'd rather not get attacked before my side of the story gets out."

"What about fire-calling her?" Ron asked.

"Do you know what her floo is this week?" Harry asked. Luna changed her floo address as many times as she could get the paperwork through at the ministry. She said it confused the fire-eating Barknarples.

"Fine, I'll tell her tonight," Ron grumbled. "But next time you do go with me, you owe me a couple of rounds. It will be hard enough to direct the conversation to you. You're lucky to have me as a friend you know."

Harry slapped Ron on the back. "I know. And you're lucky that I get discounted drinks at the Three Broomsticks, otherwise I'd have to find a new best mate."

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Once upon a time a boy knew his future. It was all laid out in front of him like an itinerary from a travel agent. Once upon a time he followed the plan without really knowing about its existence. Then he canceled his wedding and started thinking for himself._

Harry stared at the Quibbler's front page. The picture Luna chose was rather inappropriate and must have been from her own collection. Harry was half naked in the Quidditch room, hastily covering himself up from Colin's intrusion into the player's private sanctum. If it weren't for Colin's pining after Ginny in school, Harry would have thought that the boy played for another team.

But then again, as Ron so eloquently said, if Harry Potter asked Colin to have sex with him, Colin would drop his pants and ask if he was pitching or receiving. And then Ron asked what Muggle Baseball had to do with gay sex.

While the picture was inappropriate, at least the story was good. She didn't embellish anything, and went so far as to get a quote from Ginny. Luna couldn't publish the quote, but she had thoughtfully sent it to Harry by owl.

Luna had taken great care to put all quotes into context and took Ginny's un-publishable quote and paraphrased it neatly. Who would have thought that Loony Lovegood would write so well?

But then again, who would have thought that he would willingly give another interview after the fiasco in fifth year?

At any rate, the story was out, and only a few well placed diversion wards kept the howlers away from the Burrow and Harry's flat. All of the mail was sorted into two different rooms at the Shrieking Shack, one for the Weasley's and one for Harry. A Hogwart's house-elf offered to go throw and take out any cursed mail. Harry accepted, much to Hermione's chagrin. The elf refused pay.

Roughly about 63 percent of his mail was hate/cursed mail. Another 30 percent were marriage proposals and congratulations on breaking the love potion's spell that Ginny had apparently snuck him. The final seven percent was normal correspondence and words of encouragement for doing what was right for him, be damned the social consequences.

There was a knock on the door before Hermione bustled in, glancing around the apartment to make sure that there were no cobwebs the size of Hagrid, and that the dishes were cleaned. Satisfied that Harry wasn't living in filth, (although Harry had always picked up after himself, it was Ron and George who had a disaster area for a flat), she turned to him and demanded. "What were you thinking, putting that picture in the Quibbler? I've had dozens of owls asking me how to go about wooing you. I considered giving advice to some of the guys."

Harry ran his hand through his hair and groaned. "Damn. Sorry Hermione. I didn't realize they would be bugging you over this. I would have asked Bill to put diversion wards up for your flat as well."

"That's okay," Hermione laughed. "It was rather interesting reading through some of their attached biographies. I could probably make a fortune by stealing your socks and selling them off one by one."

"Wow, some friend you are," Harry snorted. "Making a profit out of my misery."

"You put this on yourself, you know," Hermione poked him in the ribs. "You never told me why you gave Luna that picture to put into the Quibbler."

Harry rand his hand through his hair again. He was going to be lucky if he didn't go bald by age 30 with his stress induced habit. "I didn't give that picture to Luna. She found it somewhere."

"Oh dear," Hermione giggled. "Did she take it herself?"

"Collin."

"I'm not sure if that's better," Hermione put her hand over her mouth as she giggled. A token gesture only. "At any rate, you certainly turned some heads with that article. I heard some gossip in Diagon Alley that you aren't actually Harry Potter. Apparently Harry Potter died during the Battle of Hogwarts, and someone from the ministry is using glamour and Polyjuice potion so no one knows you're dead. But apparently Ginny discovered you aren't the real you and so called off the wedding and blamed it on the Harry Potter-Clone because she was paid off to be quiet."

"Where do people come up with this shit?" Harry was temped to see if he banged his head against the coffee table enough times it would split in half like in old martial arts movies.

"Romantic novels, smut books, very bored teenagers in Binns' class," Hermione ticked off on her fingers.

Harry grabbed his chest. "No! It couldn't be! Hermione Granger just bad-mouthed a professor by insinuation! Who are you and what have you done with Hermione-Respect-Professors-Or-Else-Granger?"

Hermione punched him in the arm. "Very funny. I do believe that you broke me of that obsessive compulsive trait several years into our schooling."

"That was the Umbitch that broke the camel's back," Harry responded. "Anyway, did you come over just to ask about how that picture came to be in the paper?"

"No, you imbecile," she huffed. "I wanted to see how you were doing after all of the stuff that has been going on lately. But apparently, you're doing just fine if you insist on teasing me and acting like a baboon."

"That's an insult to baboons," Harry grinned. "But seriously, I'm doing fine."

"You're okay with Ginny's response?"

"She's not spoken to me since I stopped the wedding, but she also hasn't tried to curse me, so I figure it's a good start to rebuilding our friendship."

"How is it going with Arthur and Molly?"

"They both understand, but still advice me to stay away from the burrow until Ginny's calmed down more. Mrs. Weasley, er… Molly, sends me left-overs from Sunday dinner. It feeds me for a couple of days."

"How about the Weasley boys?"

"Percy's being prickish, but everyone else, including Ron is speaking to me, and Ron is the one who suggested that I give the interview to the Quibbler. Didn't he tell you?"

Hermione sighed. "We've both been rather busy with work lately, so we haven't had much time to spend together."

"That's too bad," Harry patted Hermione's hand awkwardly. "Maybe things will slow down soon?"

Hermione looked down at Harry's floundering hand and laughed. "Maybe. But quite frankly, your attempts at comforting me, while lacking, also suffice. Of course, not in the way you originally intended." She took his hand off of her hand and set it back on his lap. "Thanks for trying."

"It seems I'm not the only one teasing the one who is trying to make sure their… er… I'm not the only one teasing," Harry snorted.

"Very eloquent," Hermione smirked. "Anyway, I also have something to ask you. Are you free Friday night?"

"Yes," Harry said warily. "Why?"

"Oh relax already. I'm not actually going to try to hook you up with someone who owled me. I have two tickets to see a muggle musical. I was going to bring Ron on our date night, so he could start understanding the muggle world a little better, but he's busy that night also. Did you want to go?" Hermione pulled the tickets out of her pocket. "It's called Rent. It's really big in the US."

"Sure," Harry replied. "I've never been to a musical before. And it will be nice to get out of this apartment without being mobbed by crazed witches."

"Don't forget the occasional wizard," Hermione piped up cheerfully. "Do you have any muggle formal wear?"

"Do I need it? I'm not going to be in the show, am I?" Harry glanced at his closet.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Meet me at my parent's house on Thursday, and we'll go shopping for something that will spruce you up proper."

"What is it with you women and shopping?" Harry groaned. Hermione hit him on the arm again.

_AN:  
Behold, another chapter... I still don't own HP._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Once upon a time there was a boy with very little knowledge about the way people lived. He then went to a play with a friend, and read some modern literature. Thus knowledge expanded the boy's horizons._

"You're doing what?" Ron demanded as Harry grabbed some fire-whiskey and a couple of glasses from the kitchen.

"I'm dropping out of Auror training," Harry repeated as he poured two glasses of whiskey. "I've already told the academy, and I have an interview with Luna tomorrow."

"You're doing what?" Ron gulped some whiskey and promptly coughed flames. "No… wrong question. Why are you doing what?"

"Because apparently some people would rather live on the streets than conform to society," Harry replied, sipping his beverage.

"What does that have to do with you?" Ron demanded, now nursing his drink. "You've never conformed to society. If anything, it conforms to you!"

"That's not the point. They were willing to live on the street just so they could do something they enjoyed doing with their life," Harry tried to explain. "Take this one guy from _Rent_. This guy, Angel…"

"The bloke's name was Angel?"

"Yes, shut up, I'm not there yet…"

"Anyway, Angel played the drums for money but lived on the streets until he found a boyfriend in the community college professor…"

"Boyfriend? Harry, you keep claiming you're not gay…"

"That's not the point! Anyway, the guy would rather not have a regular food source than go against what his calling in life was; it kinda makes sense, you know," Harry took another sip. "So, I'm following his lead, and following my calling."

"Isn't your calling supposed to be fighting evil wizards and brining them to justice?" Ron was trying to follow. He really was. Maybe Harry should stop refilling his glass; he was getting a bit woozy.

"No. My fate was to off Voldemort," Harry replied and refilled his glass. "I don't want to fight each new stupid Dark-Arse-Wipe every other week. I didn't like chasing after Horcruxes or fighting the Death-Munchers. I do not want to do that for the rest of my life."

Ron shut his eyes tight. No he was wrong. He wasn't drunk enough yet. "Okay, so you're going to follow your calling, but your calling isn't being an Auror."

"Right."

"So what is your calling?" Ron sighed and opened up his eyes. Harry was a quick headache in the making.

Harry sipped his drink. He sat down the glass and furrowed his brow and glanced around the room. "I don't know."

Ron rubbed his temples. "So you quit Auror Academy."

"Right."

"You're going to follow your calling."

"Yup."

"You don't know what said calling could be."

"Nope."

"So what are you going to be doing now?" That should be the next logical question. Ron took another sip of his whiskey.

"No clue."

"Okay Harry, I'm going to wait until I'm a bit drunker and then I'm going to ask you some more questions," Ron said as he calmly downed the rest of his third glass of whiskey and held out the glass for more.

"Why?" Harry asked as he poured more whiskey.

"Because mate, you're giving me a bloody headache. What are you going to do if not a job or study for a job? What else is there? You don't even have my sister to distract you anymore, so you… noo… not that drunk, not going there. Don't to go there even when I am drunk," Ron began muttering.

"I thought you were going to get drunker before you asked me anything else," Harry smirked.

"I didn't ask you. I was ranting," Ron spat. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "No wait, I do believe there is a question I liked answered before I'm completely out of it and can't remember what it is any more."

Harry snorted. "What?"

"Did you tell Hermione that it is her fault that you are not becoming an Auror?" Ron asked.

"No."

"Well what did she think when you told her?" he demanded. Merlin only knew what Hermione would do to him if he told her that he was canceling his plans for the future without having a back up plan.

"She…" Harry paused. "I didn't tell her I dropped out of the Academy yet."

"Are you going through a mid-life crisis mate?" Ron rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You know she's going to rant and rave about forfeiting your future. And you know she won't just stop with you. No. She'll rant at me too. She'll be convinced that I told you to do it. Not to mention what she'll do if she has to read it from the Quibbler instead of hearing it from you. I may just visit Charlie for a month."

"Shit." Harry looked wide-eyed at Ron. "What should I do?"

Ron shrugged. "Plead to be readmitted into the Auror program? Use a time-turner to go back a couple of years and keep you from choosing Auror as your career choice in the first place? Move to Antarctica and fend off paparazzi penguins?"

"Big help, mate…"

"You're the one who keeps insisting on changing your life in ways that will get you screamed at by the women in your life." Ron took another sip of his whiskey and sat back.

"Hell…" he muttered. The two sat in silence for a while that was interrupted by Harry jumping up and grabbing his keys.

"Mate, watcha doin'?" the whiskey was settling in nicely into Ron's system.

"I'm going to see George. I'm going to ask for a job. Don't try to use the microwave while I'm gone," Harry replied.

"Why not? I might want some of those piece-a-bits things you keep in the frozen," Ron asked disgruntled.

"Because you don't even know the name of the freezer. Just drink until I get back," Harry snorted.

"No problem there. I'm not turning down free whiskey," Ron shrugged and turned on Harry's television. The one electric object he could easily use.

AN: Please note; I have no intentions of pairing Harry with anyone any time soon. Those of you who reviewed, thank you, but I'm afraid you're reading too much into the H/H you hinted at.

This of course, is not to say they won't get together, but I, unlike Rowling, will not force the characters into relationships previously mapped out for them. If Harry ends up with someone, she (not a he, I can't see Harry as gay, sorry folks, and I know I said I'll let him grow into it, but if I'm writing him straight, how would he grow into a homosexual relationship?) will be just as developed and match Harry well.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Once upon a time, there was a boy in desperate need of a job. He didn't need the job for money, or status. He simply needed it to appease his best friend, a monster who was terrifying and wonderful when it decided he needed protecting. This monster would go after anything threatening him, including himself._

"George, I need a job." Harry stated as soon as George opened the door to his flat above his shop.

George scratched the back of his head, "Why on earth would you need a job? Or even want one? Aren't you starting Auror training in a few weeks?"

Harry glanced left and right. "Can we discuss this inside?"

George's eye widened as he remembered the reporters that were itching for any bit of news on Harry now that he was single again. Not that they could have gotten any where near his flat, what with the protections he installed around his shop and living area. Of course, as he had learned in Hagrid's classes, it always pays to err on the side of caution when dealing with blood-sucking creatures. He nodded and opened the door wider. "So what's this about you needing a job?"

"Well you see…" Harry started, sighed, and deciding one sigh wasn't enough, sighed again. "I've notified the academy that I am not attending. I've got an interview with Luna tomorrow so it will be in the Quibbler the day after. But before it's in the paper, I need to tell Hermione that I'm throwing my plans for the future completely down the drain, and her boyfriend was not yet sloshed enough to be able to remind me of what may happen if I tell Hermione before I have a new plan, or worse if I let her just read it in the paper."

"Harry, mate, I'm sure you've heard of this thing called breathing," George snorted and led him to the kitchen table that was littered with several half-finished pranks and books. It was a mess, but it also had the only chairs that were unoccupied by various materials due to their position under the table. "I can see the bind you're in, but why did you quit the academy?"

"I don't want to become an Auror," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Okay, that's easy enough. But there are a few problems with me giving you a job," George went over to a cabinet and grabbed a glass. "Want anything to drink?"

"No thanks," Harry shook his head. "What kind of problems?"

"For one, my sister has been using the workshop during her spare time," George started counting on his fingers.

"I'll work only when she's going to be busy. I don't need many hours," Harry promised. "I'll even pay you to let me work there."

"Hold on, Harry," George held up both hands. "If you're going to be working for me, it's so you have an income to show Hermione that you aren't just lazing about your loft, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Then, I'll be the one paying you," George said. "Now, you don't mind being cursed from here to kingdom-come should she drop by unexpectedly?"

"Well, I'd mind, but I can deal with it," Harry said honestly.

George nodded. "Fine, second problem: You're Harry Potter."

Harry blinked and brushed his hand through his hair. "How's that a problem?"

"Everyone will be swarming the store to see you and not actually buy anything. The store will be overrun by reporters and while the publicity would be welcome, it would end up bottlenecking the store so that we'd have too many people in too small a space," George explained.

"I'll wear a headless hat," Harry suggested.

George chuckled. "The customers get rather…edgy whenever someone does that. But you're right, if you can hide your head, you'd be a lot less conspicuous."

"Charms for my eyes and hair and I could be your cousin, Barry," Harry laughed. "No one would know the difference."

"Except for your scar, mate," the prankster snorted.

"Merlin's eighth cat," Harry muttered under his breath. "What if I wore a hat?"

"How utterly uninspired," George frowned. "But I guess it could work. You really want a job that badly…Barry?"

"You've seen Hermione when she's on a crusade, and she'd turn me into my pet project if I didn't have a 'plan.'" Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead.

George started laughing. It started as a chuckle and slowly grew into loud guffaws that shook the table.

"Uh, George, you okay?" Harry asked, right eyebrow raised. "You didn't accidentally drink one of your experiments did you?"

"Harry," George gasped. "Did you realize that Hermione has both you and Ron whipped, and you aren't even dating her?"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "You try living in a tent for months without end with her and not be afraid of cleaning the dishes immediately after you're done eating. Not to mention brushing your teeth after every meal."

"Sorry mate," George continued to chuckle.

"So when do I start?" Harry asked.

"How about Monday?" George asked. "Ginny practices all day and doesn't have much patience for the shop after she's done. She usually goes out for a drink with the other players. Well she did until they started harping on her about the false wedding. Pun fully intended. But it's been a month, they've probably stopped bother her so much about it."

"Monday it is," Harry agreed. "Hey, you have any plans for tonight?"

"Yeah, Angelina's coming over in a few minutes, why?" George asked.

"I was going to ask you to keep Ron company and out of trouble while I go tell Hermione," Harry snorted. "Last time I left him alone in my apartment he tried to make pizza rolls and made my microwave burp three different types of birds."

"Sorry…" someone knocked on the door and George grinned. "mate. She's here. And quite frankly, she's a lot more fun than ickle-Ronnikins."

"I can't say I blame you," Harry said. He opened the door, "Hey Angelina."

"Hi Harry," she squeaked a bit. She was dressed rather uniquely. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"I'm just leaving," Harry said shaking his head. "I've seen nothing."

"Er.. thanks," Angelina hurried inside and locked the door behind her. Harry heard her yelling at George as soon as the lock slid into place. He shook his head once more before apparating to Hermione's apartment.

_AN: I have a poll up. I'm trying to find a correlation between H/Hr shippers, and R/Hr shippers. I think that the status of a shipper's biological or primary adoptive parents' relationship helps identify them as an H/Hr shipper or an R/Hr shipper. It would be very helpful if you could go vote._

_Also, before anyone suggests it, there will be no threesomes within any of my fics. I'm a firm believer of a relationship being 1+1=Spouses._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_AN: Sorry about the wait, writer's immovable object…  
As it is, it's still quite dense. Due to the fact that the plot isn't fully formed. I need the external catalyst.  
It really was like holding a tube of toothpaste upside down and waiting for the toothpaste to come out.  
So here's the next chapter, such as it is, while I'm trying to find said external catalyst._

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_**Once upon a time, there was a famous boy and a hard-working-yet-under-appreciated ministry employee who were great friends. They looked out for one another and generally kept each other out of trouble… generally.**_

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Harry knocked sharply on Hermione's office in the Ministry. He had forgotten that she was not at home, but working on a presentation for furthering the rights of goblins, house-elves, and other creatures typically defined as having a Seelie nature. She had had only moderate success with her last presentation, trying to abolish the unjust werewolf laws.

She often bitterly complained that the only reason she managed to loosen the employment laws was by citing that Remus Lupin, fallen hero of the Hogwarts Final Battle was responsible for teaching _The Harry Potter_ how to do the Patronus Charm, which had saved Harry's life several times. Thank Merlin that those stricter laws were not in place when Lupin taught at Hogwarts, otherwise their savior would have died long before he had a chance to defeat the Dark Lord.

"Never mind," she would huff. "That Remus was a fantastic Professor. He was patient and well respected before his monthly problem was exposed. No, Remus's reputation helped because of his connection and importance to the bloody-boy-who-lived… no offence, Harry."

Hermione opened her office door looking frazzled and annoyed. Apparently the presentation preparation was not going well. "What is it Harry?"

"Are you okay?" Harry asked in return. "You look a bit stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed!" Hermione exclaimed throwing her arms in the air and pacing back into her office. Harry followed her and shut the door, just so she wouldn't disturb the skeleton crew over in the DMLE. She continued. "The damned bureaucrats moved the presentation in front of the Wizenmagot to tomorrow morning! It truly is amazing how quickly they can push an unwanted presentation when it's more damaging to go early, but it takes several weeks to register a damned Floo address if you're not Luna Lovegood!"

Harry blinked, and ran his hand through his hair nervously. He did not want to explain to Hermione his whole, wonderful new life plan now. Not to mention the subsequent press frenzy to follow. So instead he said, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, "What are you doing here anyway?"

Harry grinned sheepishly, and couldn't resist putting his hand through his hair again. Merlin's Third Goat, sometimes she was scary. "Couldn't someone drop in on his best mate without getting the third degree?"

"At work… late at night? No. Either you, or Ron, or both of you, are up to something. I don't know what it is, but it can't be good." Hermione crossed her arms and glared pointedly. "What are you up to?"

"Not much," Harry said quite honestly and then began to babble. "I was just drinking with Ron and talked, and I'm working undercover for George, and I'm no longer enrolled at the Auror academy; I'll see Luna tomorrow. I'll ask her how she gets her Floo registry through so quickly if you like though."

"Harry, repeat what you said about the Auror Academy," Hermione was looking down and held her hands up in the traditional 'hold-up-a-moment' gesture.

"Oh, that," the sheepish grin was quickly turning nervous, and he had to clasp his hands to keep himself from trying to comb his hair again. "It's nothing. I'm just not attending any longer, or will not attend at all, as the case may be. But you know how grammar isn't one of my strengths, I mean you've helped me with enough essays to know this. After all you do know everything…"

"Harry, enough with the nervous babbling, it's driving me batty." Hermione rubbed her temples. "You're normally not a babbler. Stay still while I check you for curses."

"Hermione, I'm not…" he started.

"Stay quiet too," Hermione interrupted him and waved her hand in a complicated manner. Harry bit his tongue to keep from replying. He wasn't certain, but thought that this might be part of her cleverly crafted punishment.

After fifteen minutes, Harry was dying to fidget and blurted out, "Are you done yet?"

"I've been done for five minutes, I'm just thinking now," Hermione said as she stopped waving her wand. She tapped her jaw with it.

"Careful," Harry snorted. So it was part of his punishment, or maybe she just forgot to tell him she was done. No… Hermione wouldn't forget that, it was intentional. "You might blow off your chin."

"Only if I'm stupid enough to cast a spell while doing this," Hermione snorted. She motioned to a chair. "Sit down, let's talk."

"What about your presentation?" he wondered as Hermione sat down in her own chair.

"I needed a break anyway," Hermione sighed. "The presentation is done. I'm just trying to figure out how to make it get through the skulls of old men who really do think that they are better than everyone else. But right now, we talk about you."

Harry sat down and frowned. "Why do we need to talk about me?"

"Because you appear to be going through a mid-life crisis, and by Merlin I've worked too hard to help keep you alive for you to die at age 40," Hermione spat. She rearranged a few papers on her desk. "I also don't want to see you to live a long and unhappy life, or an unproductive one, which amounts to the same, the way I see it." She looked him in the eye.

"So I'm a project to you?" Harry stood and scowled. "I'm a mission that you have to finish?"

"Idiot," Hermione scoffed. "You're only a project when you make yourself one. You're a friend. Remember, large troll, tiny boy, and a wand up the troll's nose? Call me silly, but I always believed that friends were there for each other when needed. You happened to need help to stay alive. Meanwhile you helped me live. I'd call that a pretty equal friendship, wouldn't you?"

Harry sputtered, glared, and finally burst out laughing. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out where she made a joke.

"What is it Harry?" she huffed.

"I came here hoping to avoid an argument about me being irresponsible with my life, and of course to let you know to be wary of more owls, but we're talking about my life anyway!" Harry chuckled. He sat back down and wiped a tear out of his eye. "What do you want to talk about?"

Hermione shook her head like a cat that just woke up from falling off the back of the sofa. And just like a cat, she decided to pretend that she was not shocked by Harry's response. "I want to talk about why you're not going to the Auror Academy."

"I don't want to be an Auror," Harry shrugged. "I feel like I've had this conversation a lot tonight."

"It doesn't surprise me, you've said you wanted to be an Auror since fifth year," Hermione replied. "Why don't you want to be an Auror anymore?"

"The same reason why I didn't marry Ginny," Harry sighed. "I didn't choose it. Well, in a way I did, by just accepting what everyone expected of me. Honestly, I figured it out after you took me to _RENT_."

"I hope that's not what you're telling Luna tomorrow morning," Hermione rubbed her temples.

"Well, what should I say?" Harry asked as his hand made its way through his hair again. If he kept up his way of shocking everyone, he was going to go bald by the time he was twenty-five. "I thought the purpose of giving Luna interviews was to get my voice out there amongst the drabble of _Witch Weekly_, and _The Daily Prophet_."

"It is, but you also have to be careful of what you say. People are going to be fairly pissed if you say that they've been controlling your life, even indirectly," Hermione paused to summon a house-elf to supply them with tea. She had finally understood, after a few talks with the Hogwarts elves and Kreacher, that it was considered the worse sort of insult to be free. Dobby was an aberration in the race that provided muggles with their myths about Brownies. The fact that the slavery bond also provided an anchor for both house-elves' sanity and magic also helped her understand the necessity of slavery. The kitchen elves had explained that Dobby was bonded to Harry, without Harry's knowledge. It was how Dobby was able to find wherever Harry was located at any given time. "People don't like to be forced to acknowledge that they have unreasonable expectations of public figures. They like it less than when a public figure does something unexpected. At any rate, you don't want to become an even bigger target for retribution by some obsessed fan-person."

"I never wanted to be a bloody public figure, damned public," Harry grumbled as he put three spoonfuls of sugar in his tea. "You know you didn't answer me, what should I say?"

"You know, I'm not your publicist," she frowned.

"No, you're my very knowledgeable, very wonderful, very successful, very beautiful, very intelligent…"

"Please, Harry," Hermione laughed. "You're repeating yourself."

"…very observant," Harry continued as if she didn't interrupt him. "Best friend. Please? I don't want to lie. But I would prefer avoiding curses and bubbertuber pus via the mail."

"I really think you might want to hire a PR director, someone with a bit more experience" Hermione hedged.

"Who could I find that's better than you?" Harry asked. "You were the one who covered up the wedding fiasco. You were the one who managed all of the press after the Final Battle. I think you have plenty of experience."

"Even so, I don't have time to play PR director on top of this," she gestured around her office.

"I don't plan on making shocking decisions every day," Harry laughed. "But I'd understand if you think you're too busy. Do you think I can find a PR director by tomorrow morning? Do you have time to help me tonight? I know you have to revise your presentation."

Hermione scowled at her desk as if she suddenly remembered the mornings' presentation. "Sure, why not. I was planning on doing an all-nighter anyway."

Harry frowned. "You were planning on an all-nighter? Weren't you the one who always told Ron and me about the value of a good night's sleep before a test? And if you were planning on spending all night on your presentation then why did you let me take up so much of your time?"

She blushed and cast her eyes around the room. "Well, I wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, so I was just going to keep making alternative presentations so I could easily switch tactics should the Wizenmagot prove unreasonably difficult."

"Now I may not be the brightest wizard of our century," Harry smiled wryly. "But if someone is being unreasonable, how does it make sense to provide them with another presentation, or even switch tactics? To top it off you plan on being tired, therefore less patient, when presenting to said arseholes?"

"I never said that it made sense to do that," Hermione huffed. She picked up and examined an oatmeal biscuit that the house-elf had sent with the tea. "I just said that was my plan. I was thinking that it could help me manage my nervousness. Generally I have a couple of weeks to plan out contingencies…"

"Even though you use your original draft most of the time?" Harry bit his cheek to keep from laughing at her. She had explained it all to him before, how her original drafts seemed more genuine than the rewrites. And of course, her original draft was usually a good ten times better than anyone else's final draft. "I have an idea."

"Good Merlin no!" Hermione scoffed and took a bite out of her biscuit. "I'd call the press, but you're speaking with them in the morning. Be sure to tell Luna of this auspicious event."

"Fine, I just won't tell you my idea then. And you can be stuck here getting stage fright for the morning, and I'll tell Luna the absolute reason why I'm not becoming an Auror, and we'll be warding off Howlers for another couple of months," Harry stood to leave.

Hermione sighed. "Fine, tell me your idea."

"It's actually not much," Harry sat back down. "You help me with my press issues for the morning, and I'll listen to your presentation and give you what few pointers I can. You make changes off of my suggestions, or not. And then we both go to our own apartments and sleep as we have long days tomorrow."

"That actually makes sense," Hermione agreed. "But I want one amendment to the agreement."

"What?"

"What are you going to be doing working at George's shop?" she asked sipping her tea.

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_AN: Please review, I have a long work week coming up and reviews will help rejuvenate me._


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